


May Our House Be Open

by opalmatrix



Category: Gentlemen of the Road - Michael Chabon
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Friendship, Gen, Judaism, Shabbat | Sabbath | Sabt, hospitality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:21:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29646393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/pseuds/opalmatrix
Summary: A Sabbath meal becomes something more.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2
Collections: Purimgifts 2021





	May Our House Be Open

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seekingferret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingferret/gifts).



> And finally, the prompt for this one was the other two, plus some readings from Pirkei Avot on hospitality. I hope you have enjoyed these!

When Zelikman returned to the caravansery from his evening errand to the Muslim Quarter, he told his partner of the treacherous footing on the paving stones after the rain shower, and how he was prevented from a fall by a local Jewish woman, who had invited them to Sabbath supper with her family. "She invited you to her home just because you spoke a few words of Hebrew? A madwoman," Amram said.

"I don't see, said Zelikman, offended, "That it can do any harm to get to know other Jews in this city."

"Peace," said Amram. "I will make inquiries about your Raysa and her Yaqub."

He went out the next morning, leaving Zelikman to the peace of his drug-compounding, and returned in mid-afternoon.

"The most usual response was, 'Everyone knows Yaqub the dairyman!'" Amram reported. "That being so, I say a free meal is a free meal. I have bought them some honeycomb, so we need not go there empty-handed."

As the lower rim of the setting sun touched the horizon, the door of Raysa and Yaqub's house opened to the sojourners. The host was a stooped, grey-headed fellow who had probably been quite muscular in his youth, and who still moved like one who knew how to force an errant cow to make way. "I recognize Zelikman from my wife's description, and this must be Amram!" Yaqub beamed at them both. "Look, Husna, this is Master Zelikman from the far north and Master Amram from the far south. We have the whole world to supper!"

Husna appeared to be some nine years old. Amram looked at her dark eyes with their long lashes and firmly reinforced the fortress that he had built about his heart. "Husna is our grand-niece," Yaqub explained.

Amram held out to her the stoppered jar he had bought, "Honeycomb, little mistress. Please bring this to your great-aunt."

Husna looked at him gravely, then smiled all at once and took the jar. She vanished through the far doorway. An enticing smell of lamb stewed with fruit was drifting into the main room from the space beyond.

"Our apologies," said Zelikman. "We have had to bring all our baggage. We can't trust the the master of the caravansery."

Ai, what a state of affairs! Well, it's not like we don't have plenty of room. That's why we have the child, so we don't rattle about like two peas in a pan. Come this way." 

He led the way past a tiny courtyard half-filled with pots of herbs and into a shuttered bedroom with two narrow beds. "Place your gear as it pleases you," said Yaqub. 

When they returned, Husna was laying the table. Raysa came in a with a little lamp burning brightly. She greeted Amram like a visiting cousin and Zelikman like a wayward younger brother, and then lit all the lamps in the room except for a many-tongued silver lamp on a carved table by itself. Last of all she gave Husna the lamp she carried. They all covered their eyes as the child lit the lights of the Sabbath, and then they chanted the blessings.

Raysa and Husna served the meal: lamb stewed with onions and dried apricots, tender bean pods in a fragrant sauce, greens in vinegar and oil, spiced olives, fresh bread, cool water flavored with citron, and wine from the hills nearby. Their hosts entertained them with tales of the holy city, of their families, and of the dairy farm down the road. Amram found it all dangerously comfortable, and even Zelikman seemed at ease.

"I noticed your gaze on my shatranj set," said Yaqub, at last.

"It is a fine-looking set," allowed Amram.

"The dealer told my son Ezar that it was from Damascus. Shall we play?"

"If it would please you," said Amram, carelessly genial.

Husna and Raysa returned with little wheaten biscuits, sugared almonds, and the honeycomb. The two opponents sat at one end of the table, and Husna hid an almond in one hand behind her back for her great-uncle to pick. He lost, so Amram took white and made the first move.

After a dozen moves, Amram found himself in strategic difficulties. He hunched over the board, excited. Nothing in Yaqub's gentle manner had prepared him for this, but it should have, Amram told himself. It is always the quiet ones that bear careful watching. 

"Your king is at a loss," said Yaqub, suddenly. And Amram saw it was so.

"Name of heaven, where did you learn to play, man?" he said.

Yaqub chuckled. "Our old teacher taught me," he said. "But I don't get to play very often anymore. People are tired of losing."

Amram frowned at him. "Well, I guess I was tired of winning!"

They all stared at him, and then he threw back his head and roared with laughter. Zelikman buried his face in his hands, laughing also. "Heh," Amram said at last. "You'll have to give me a chance to pay you back."

Yaqub lexchanged glances with his wife. "About that," said Raysa. "I hear that your living quarters aren't very hospitable. We have plenty of room, and our company seems to suit you, no?"

Amram sobered and looked at Zelikman who, predictably, shrugged. "We have horses to stable," said Zelikman.

"And we have a stables that currently houses but a single ox in its four stalls," said Yaqub.

"We're not actually very good men," said Amram, darkly. "We are gentlemen of the road. Why would you trust us, in your home and with your women?"

"Well," said Yaqub. "You came with a gift for the household. You listened patiently and with kindness to Raysa's endless stories about our sons."

"You can laugh at yourselves," added Raysa.

"And, most important, Husna likes you," said Yaqub. "Won't you stay, and let me beat your again tomorrow?"

"It's too late to move the horses," said Zelikman.

Amram pondered. "Tomorrow, then, " he said,

Raysa smiled. 


End file.
